


Apologies from a Tired Man

by bookstorequeer



Category: Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M, Implied Relationships, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-12
Updated: 2012-05-12
Packaged: 2017-11-05 05:00:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/402696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookstorequeer/pseuds/bookstorequeer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers is a good man and when he feels he owes an apology, not even exhaustion and double-vision are going to stop him from giving it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Apologies from a Tired Man

**Author's Note:**

> HEREIN THERE BE SPOILERS.
> 
> If you haven't seen "The Avengers" yet, please don't be mad at me if this spoils you to parts. They're vague but present.

“Tony?”

Steve surprised himself by how hesitant he was in searching for the genius-billionaire-playboy-philanthropist. He wanted to apologize for all the things he’d said against Stark. He could see now that Tony didn't only fight for himself and he just had to make amends with this man who reminded him so strongly of Bucky, even before he had managed to strip out of his dirty, bloodied uniform, before he’d regained his stride after the fight. Double-vision was making navigating through the wreckage more difficult but Steve Rogers was determined to do this duty before he let himself rest. Tony deserved his apology and then Captain America could let himself be just Steve again.

Holding his breath, the super soldier and lonely man out of his century was sure that he could hear the whir of machinery in one corner of this rabbit warren of broken rooms that had once been Stark Tower. He followed the noise and swallowed a gasp when he found a bruised and battered Stark dented into his suit and swearing under his breath.

“Tony?”

“Oh Steve, hey.” The billionaire grunted as a robotic arm tugged on the panelling still strapped to his back. “This, ugh, isn’t the best time, actually. Any chance we can reschedule whatever it is you’re here for?”

Steve swallowed, trying to gather the nerve that had served him so well in 1945’s Germany, and stepped into the room; in doing so, he saw the darkening contusions that covered Tony’s bare torso, t-shirt torn away by robots and war.

“I came to say that I’m—God, Tony, are you alright?”

“This?” Stark scoffed, “It’s nothing. You should see the other guy.”

“I’ve seen the other guy, remember?” Steve gritted out. “Here, just let me—”

“No, hey, what are you—”

All Tony could do was watch as strong, dirty hands curled around the stubborn piece of Iron Man still stuck to his back and pulled it loose with a crackle of sheared wires. He swayed where he stood and Steve’s steadying hand was hot on his shoulder.

“You okay?”

This close, Steve could see the muscles of Tony’s throat work on a swallow; his own mouth was dry but he couldn’t quite bring himself to move beyond lowering his hand.

“Well, while you’re doing your Hulk impression…” Stark was saying when Steve blinked and attempted to focus past the shape of the playboy’s mouth and how he had never quite been brave enough to reach out to Bucky, no matter how much he had wanted to. “How about helping a guy out?”

Steve tried to ignore the fact that it was the panel wrapped around Tony’s thigh that he was prying loose. He shivered when his fingers slipped and brushed over fabric warmed by Tony’s body.

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

The blond looked up from where he knelt, vaguely aware that this was exactly the untenable position that he had striven his entire life to avoid. He felt vulnerable, on his knees before this powerful, complicated man; his palms were sweaty and his breath hoarse and all he could think about was how warm Tony was beneath his fingertips. Dark eyes looked down at him, unreadable and unmoving.

“You want a drink? ‘Cause I could use a drink.”

Steve bowed his head as Tony backed away, staring at his broad hands as they made the chipped and warped floor bloody. He hadn’t realised quite how much of his body hurt until he stopped moving but now that he was aware, Steve wasn’t sure that he could stand when Tony called to him from the bar.

“Brandy okay? Because everything else is smashed.”

“I can’t get drunk,” the soldier sighed, gritting his teeth and failing in an attempt at regaining his feet. Steve settled for sprawling on the floor and telling himself it was where he wanted to be, rather than any closer to the dangerous, broken time bomb that was Anthony Edward Stark.

“Now that’s a shame,” the other man mused, lowering himself with a pop and a creak to the floor. He held out a hand and looked at the mangled remains of his glove still stubbornly stuck to his skin.

“You’re a good man,” Steve told the ceiling, not looking at the man he was apologizing to as he did so.

Stark was silent beside him like it was strange to hear such things about himself.

“I was wrong about everything. I’m sorry.”

There were a half dozen heartbeats and a swallow between them before the clink of a glass set on the hardwood as Tony lay himself down beside Captain America.

“I hated you.”

The admission was soft but Steve still flinched away from it.

“When I was a kid, I mean. You were the reason my dad was never around—He was too busy looking for you. I realise now that wasn’t your fault but when I heard that Fury was bringing you onboard the Avengers, I was fully prepared to hate you.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Steve watched Tony’s hands move in time to the babble, like the genius could never be completely still.

“I don’t, you know. Hate you.”

Steve swallowed and turned at the quiet plea in that voice, so like the Stark he had known back before the world changed.

“Your father was a good man,” Steve whispered, watching Tony frown without a word. “And I think he would be very proud of your Iron Man.”

Tony’s expression melted into a boy who only wanted to get and keep his father’s attention.

“Really?”

Steve nodded and grabbed the twisted metal glove still gouging the floor with Tony’s nervous fidgets. The super soldier peeled off the wires and iron and caught those bruised knuckles in his own calloused grip. The sound of the glove hitting the floor was loud in the breath that followed.

“Really, Tony. You were amazing today. _You_ are amazing.”

Steve Rogers, part-time superhero, was caught off-guard by the relief and joy like he often saw on Bucky’s face. He found himself leaning forward to brush his mouth against Stark’s without thinking, caught in his own smothered longing and saturated loneliness. He pulled back with a gasp and looked away.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, cursing the super soldier serum for never having fixed his fair skin and blushes. He was mortified and horrified that he had finally made such a move, the first he’d ever dared and it had been on this well-known _straight_ playboy. Steve flinched when Tony moved. “I’m sorry. You have Miss Potts and I—I should go.”

The lonely blond rolled onto his other side when Tony didn’t move, intent on escaping the inaction and the warmth; running from the way the man smelled like soot and sweat and reminded him so strongly of all the good things in a best friend lost. His muscles protested the move and Steve hissed, curling in on himself when his body yelled at him for all the things he’d put it through lately.

“I’ll get up in a minute, I just need to catch my—”

“You’re bleeding on my floor.”

Steve rolled his eyes but felt his body start to unclench when there was a warm hand gentle on his shoulder.

“You can afford to get it cleaned, Stark,” he said breathlessly through his teeth. Dark eyes, almost black in the failing light looked down at him for a long moment before Tony was shaking his head and tugging at a tired shoulder.

“C’mon, Cap, up you get.”

“I can clean the—”

Tony slipped an arm around Steve’s waist to match the support around his shoulders as Captain America swayed on his feet, even super soldier muscles tired from endless fighting and fear.

“Would you shut up about the damn floor already? I’m more concerned about you," Stark snapped.

They stumbled, punch-drunks holding each other up and Steve hissed when his elbow bounced off a door frame. He stopped moving when he realised that it was Tony’s bedroom just beyond them.

“I couldn’t possibly—”

“Here’s how this is going to go,” was the sigh as Steve was tugged over the threshold,” You’re going to lie down before you fall down, Jarvis is going to scan you and when and only when I’m convinced that you’re doing okay and don’t need professional help—a fact that’s highly debatable and just take a minute to think about who’s talking here—you’re going to get wrapped up and then we’re going to sleep.”

“But—”

“What part of that was unclear?”

Steve lay down with a little help from Tony and couldn’t stop a groan when it stretched out parts of him that he hadn’t realised were kinked. His eyes flew back open when he felt warm, sure fingers fumbling with the clasp of his suit.

“ _Tony—!_ ”

“You can’t sleep in this damn, dirty thing, Cap. And I have it on very good authority that I can be gentle when the moment calls for it.”

There was a warm tease in Tony's voice that made Steve blush again.

“I’ve just never—I mean, you shouldn’t—”

The questing hands stopped, ten points of brilliant heat branding his skin.

“Wait, is Captain America _shy_? No…Wait...It can't be that you're still a—”

Steve flushed scarlet and looked away from the laughter in Tony’s eyes. He hated how familiar he was with that feeling of humiliation and in that moment he hated Tony for reminding him of it. Steve’s heartbeat was loud in his ears but he could hear the apology in Stark’s words as Tony murmured something about getting another drink while Steve undressed for the scan. Rogers found himself reluctant but obedient when the door shut behind Iron Man; he undressed and submitted to Jarvis while only muttering quietly to himself about how stupid it was to even think Tony wouldn't push him away. Still, he was surprised to find himself drowsing on the softest sheets he’d ever felt as the computer beeped above him and the bedroom door opened again.

“Why didn’t you get checked over by Fury’s medical team?” was the question as he pried his eyes open and blinked dazedly in the lower lights; he was taken aback to see Tony so close after what he’d done.

“I wanted to apologize to you.”

And he had; Steve’s heart had been on his tongue when Iron Man shot overhead carrying a nuke of all things, only a few hours ago. One moment Steve had been riding high on being given control of the Avengers and the next he was watching the frustrating, infuriating, beautifully complex genius make the sacrifice play. He never wanted to feel that helpless again and he never wanted to give the order that meant they would lose a teammate, lose _Tony Stark_ forever. He knew he’d see Tony's ragdoll body plummeting through the sky, just the way he saw Bucky falling beyond his reach whenever he closed his eyes.

“Steve?”

“Mmm.” He didn’t open his eyes again but listened instead to the tired sounds of Tony bustling around him; he jumped and Tony chuckled softly when fingers brushed his bared skin.

“Jarvis says you could use some stitches but since I can’t sew and girls love scars…”

Steve frowned up at the billionaire playboy and couldn’t help a smile at Tony’s rueful, surprisingly _fond_ look.

“Thanks for coming, even if it really could have waited.”

Steve tried and failed not to turn his face into the hand brushing hair from his eyes. His expression smoothed and his eyes fluttered closed as Tony pulled away, only to open in surprise when the mattress dipped with the weight of another body lying down.

“Tony?”

“I’m tired and the guest room has holes in the walls.”

“But I—”

“Kissed me? I know, it was nice.”

“Nice? But—”

“Why don’t you try it again when we’re not both too exhausted to do anything about it, ‘kay?” Tony suggested, laying his head so close that Steve's skin was a wash of goosebumps.

“But Miss Potts—”

“We have an agreement,” came the smile. “We both agree that the spangly outfit does great things for your ass.”

“I don’t—”

His mind was a blur of emotions, exhaustion, and Tony’s closeness; he couldn’t think with the other man’s arm across his stomach.

“Shh,” was Tony’s murmur, eyes closing as the lights dimmed further. “Let’s just sleep. Everything else will keep. After all, we did save the world, right?”

Steve nodded slowly, eyes closing on Jarvis’s quiet, “Good night, sirs.” He was out before Tony had moved closer in his own sleep but Steve would wake the next morning with Iron Man drooling on his chest and Pepper Potts smiling at him from the end of the bed. To say he continued to be surprised by the twenty-first century was an understatement.

**End.**


End file.
